


indeterminate

by comefeedtherainn



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Established Rivalry, General tension, M/M, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, background bevkay, background bike, richie is an ass and eddie is In Denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: Commodore Edward Kaspbrak and Pirate Captain Richard Tozier have a long and, some might say, colorful history. Ten years of clashing, ten years of rivalry, and ten years of Tozier mysteriously escaping as soon as he is within Eddie's grasp. Almost as if the commodore had let him go.With the world closing in on him and Tozier finding himself between a rock and a hard place, he enlists his old rival's "help", whether he likes it or not.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 19
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

The wind ripping off of the sea is warm and wet, strong where Commodore Edward Kaspbrak walks along the rampart and squints as his eyes sting with salt. The fort around him is quiet, at the moment, stars sparkling overhead and the brilliant moon casting a hazy light over the port town of Derry at the foot of the hill. The light is made more dazzling by the water surrounding on three sides, the settlement nestled on a peninsula jutting out into the Carribean sea . It is only Eddie and a few others still awake standing watch; he supposes he probably could have assigned someone else so he could get some sleep after being awake for nearly a full day, but...well, he has control issues. He's always felt more alive, more awake, at night, anyway. As if his soul doesn't rouse until it can have a moment alone. 

He is pulled from his thoughts by shouting, and peers over the edge of the Fort Derry with a frown. Two of his men are waving their arms and hollering something that he can't hear, and he does a double take of the dock in the distance before realizing a ship is approaching - lithe, fast, with black sails and a skull-and-crossbones flag waving against the starry sky. 

Eddie only needs one guess to suppose who it might be, and turns to descend the steps as swiftly as he can. 

"PIRATES!" he bellows, pounding on doors as he passes them by. "UP, MEN, UP!"

The fort is soon alive with activity, soldiers shouting and dashing down the halls while still buttoning their coats or fastening on holsters. The majority clamber onto horses and race down to assist Derry, the port town fortified but still vulnerable at this time of night. Eddie orders what are left of his men to surround and defend the fort itself - most pirates would stick to the town itself, not wanting to contend with thick walls and royal navy soldiers, both, but the man Eddie is expecting is not most pirates. He tooks off at a run to assist in manning the front gate, pulling his sword and holding it tightly in his fist.

Eddie skids to a halt as from around the next corner emerges Captain Richard Tozier, a familiar face that sets his teeth on edge even after ten years of rivalry. He is tall, broad, his coat flowing down to his ankles and fluttering in the heavy wind, an elaborate hat perched haphazardly on top of his head. They are hardly young men, anymore, but Eddie can admit they still fight like they are- eager, boisterous, Tozier (Richie, as he'd insisted Eddie call him, like they're _friends_ , damn him) always with a teasing smile and a roarous laugh. If he enjoys his run-ins with Tozier, Eddie certainly isn't about to acknowledge that fact, pointedly ignoring the flutter in his stomach and the leaping of his heart at the sight of the man's stupid smile. Tozier always manages to escape, anyway, despite Eddie's best efforts. Or, what he has convinced himself were his best efforts. It's all very...complicated.

"Fancy meeting you here," Tozier grins, brandishing his sword and brining it clanging against Eddie's with a flourish. Always with the theatrics.

"You think you're so funny," Eddie snips back, taking a step back to steady himself as Tozier looms over him with an easy smirk. "It's a bold move, attacking Derry head on."

"Maybe I missed you."

Eddie huffs and shoves Tozier back and away, readjusting his grip on his weapon and narrowing his eyes as he waits for the pirate to make a move. What he lacks in formal training, Tozier more than makes up for in natural skill and quick thinking. He doesn't follow the rules of swordplay, and his footwork is sloppy, but he is swift and agile and seems to have boundless energy. He is unpredictable, and Eddie hates it almost as much as it thrills him. Tozier feints forward, and laughs when Eddie tenses.

"Aw, Eds, you know better than to fall for that," he teases, his grin lopsided. 

" _Don't_ call me Eds."

Their swords clash again, Tozier pressing forward so aggressively that he practically chases Eddie in a dance back up the steps up the rampart. It is easier to see, in the light of the full moon reflecting off of the water, and Eddie sets his teeth as he pushes harder. Tozier doesn't seem to have even broken a sweat, the bastard, still smiling even as his brow furrows a bit with concentration. 

"Have you been practicing?" he calls, speaking loudly over the noise of clanging blades and the crash of water against the walls of Fort Derry. The fort lies on the shore of the peninsula, a plummeting fall below them lying a collection of jagged rocks beaten by angry waves. Eddie's stomach swoops briefly as he is reminded of the height, but he puts it to the back of his mind as he bites back a reply.

"I was going to ask you the same."

"Commodore, you know I never practice," Tozier laughs. "I'm either amazing at something, or I quit!"

He punctuates the sentence with a swipe that is far too wide, far too easy to intercept, and if Eddie were a braver man he would admit that they are truly dancing, now. Always dancing, around and around and away and away. 

They both startle as a cannon sounds in the distance and, as both of them turn to look, they see several lights waving back and forth on the deck of Tozier's ship. A signal, Eddie supposes, exchanging a look with Tozier. The man appears almost expectant, his brows raising and crinkling his forehead. Eddie doesn't make a move, pressing his lips together. Tozier's mouth splits into a grin, and he leaps onto the edge of the rampart as if he has no fear of the height.

"Commodore, it's been a pleasure," he says, bowing dramatically with a tip of his stupid hat. "Until we meet again."

And with that, he dives off of the edge and into the near-black sea below. Eddie's heart leaps into his throat for reasons he isn't prepared to process, and he leans over, holding his breath. He releases it in a rush when Tozier appears above the water again, spitting some out before swimming to meet a dinghy floating midway between his ship and the shore. One man reaches and makes fists in his jacket, hauling him up and into the boat and calpping him on the back. Still soaked and dripping, his oversized hat waterlogged and sagging, Captain Richard Tozier stands and blows a kiss in Commodore Edward Kaspbrak's direction.

Eddie releases a long breath through his nose, his chest aching, and turns away to descend the steps, relieved when Richie's smile is hidden behind a thick stone wall.

* * *

I can be found on [twitter](https://twitter.com/comefeedthrainn) and [tumblr](https://comefeedtherainn.tumblr.com/) \- come say hi!


	2. Chapter 2

A warm, calloused hand presses over his mouth before Eddie can fully wake, and he lets out a muffled cry of surprise.

"Sh! It's me, don't scream!"

Eddie blinks up at the face of Richard fucking Tozier, who he now realizes the offending hand belongs to. He pulls his face away, and Tozier lets him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hisses, still squinting as his eyes haven't quite adjusted to the dark.

"I'm kidnapping you," Tozier says, as if it's obvious.

"You-...why?"

Tozier snorts, nudging Eddie out of bed. "Reasons."

"I hate you."

"Liar."

Eddie purses his lips as Tozier turns him around, pressing him up against the wall before tying his wrists with scratchy rope. Edde lifts his eyes to the ceiling, making a face as his shoulders are pulled back farther than is comfortable. 

"This is all a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

"You know me," Tozier smirks, tightening up the knot before nudging the center of Eddie's back. "Alright, let's go."

Eddie fixes him with a dry look. "No."

Tozier rolls his eyes with a sigh through his nose. "I don't want to have to be a dick about this, but I can be, Eds."

"Don't call me Eds."

"Just walk."

Eddie huffs, turning toward the door and marching out. He is all too aware of the fact that he is clad in only his underwear and a sleep shirt. Together they traverse the hall outside, dark and lit dimly by moonlight near the small windows. Tozier grabs his shoulder a couple of times to steer him away from bumping into things, but otherwise lets him walk on his own. The fort is quiet, once again, in the dead of night. 

"Could've at least let me change."

"Could not. You're a hostage."

"Oh, fuck you."

They pause at the door, Tozier peeking out to ensure the coast is clear. He mutters something to himself as he observes, but Eddie can't quite make it out. He huffs heavily, resting his weight on one foot.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you just walk me out of here like a puppy? Or that my men will?"

"First one, yes. Second one, I'm working on."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. "What if I scream?"

Tozier's eyes slide toward him, and they engage in a brief staring contest which Eddie might have won if Tozier hadn't grabbed him and spun him around once more. He blinks as Tozier's chest presses up against his back, sending a thrill down his spine that he wishes he could pretended didn't exist, and grunts as a handkerchief is wedged between his teeth. Tozier ties it up snugly at the base of his neck, and snickers at the disgusted noise Eddie makes in his throat.

"Relax, it's clean. Probably."

Eddie hopes his "mmph" sounds venomous enough.

At some point the coast becomes clear, as Tozier slowly eases open the door and nudges Eddie through before following after. They emerge outside, the air warm but graced with a cool breeze. Along the ramparts a thin number of soldiers are patrolling, though the pair of them are hidden from their view for now. Eddie wonders briefly how exactly Tozier managed to enter the fort unnoticed, but then figures he's better off not trying to understand the things he manages to accomplish. It would only make his head hurt. 

Tozier clamps a hand on the back of Eddie's neck (it certainly doesn't feel nice or warm or grounding, absolutely not) to steer him, and leans to murmur in his ear.

"You know the patrols. Lead us out."

"Mm-mm."

"Change of heart?" Tozier whispers, and though Eddie can't see him he can almost hear the smirk in his voice, gravely and sending a shiver through him that curls his toes. "Fine. Go ahead and let them catch me."

Eddie clenches his jaw, glaring straight ahead and not making a sound.

"Thought so. Go on, then."

With a huff, Eddie continues on. 

He does in fact know the patrols, and maneuvers the two of them through the fort slowly but precisely. It is easier to exit the fort through a side passage rather than the front, so he takes them there, coming out on the cliffside where the wind is more violent and whips through his hair. He keeps his eyes studiously trained away from the sheer height, as usual, and turns to look over his shoulder expectantly. He frowns when Tozier clamps his palm over the base of his neck, again, and pushes him to walk forward before he can even make eye contact. It is an uneventful trip to the docks, mostly because Tozier doesn't remove the handkerchief from Eddie's mouth and even if he had, Eddie has settled into giving him a resolute cold shoulder. When they finally reach the water, there is no ship in sight, and Eddie raises a silent eyebrow at his captor. 

Tozier snorts, nodding to a dinghy washed up on the sand. "Your chariot, sir."

Eddie kicks his shin, and is proud of the sharp curse he earns as a result, before being guided down the cluster of stones and boulders to the beach. He elbows Tozier off of him and climbs into the vessel himself, though he nearly pitches himself face forward into the sand as he doesn't have his arms for balance. He manages, and fixes Tozier with a haughty look of accusation as he sits.

"You're the one talking a load of shit about screaming," Tozier points out. "If I thought I could trust you to be a well-behaved captive I'd've untied your hands, at least."

Eddie tries to kick him again, but he is too far away. 

After he pushes the dinghy into the water, Tozier climbs inside and grabs hold of the oars. He begins to row, and Eddie sighs as he realizes he'll be making this trip without hands or speech. Fucking Tozier. He looks up at the sky for something to do; the moon is full and the stars are dazzling. A lovely night to be kidnapped, he supposes. 

"My ship is a little ways away," says Tozier after a few minutes. "Once we get there I'll untie you."

"Hm," Eddie says in what he hopes in a snippy tone. Bit hard to achieve with cloth in your mouth. 

"I like you like this," Tozier says, grinning at him. "Silent. Tied up. Scantily clad. Is it cold out here or are you just happy to see me?"

"Nngh," Eddie huffs, glaring at him. Tozier just laughs.

They travel for what must be nearly an hour (though maybe Eddie is just sick of the feeling slowly leaving his arms) before the black sails of Tozier's ship melt into existence, silhoutted by the hazy light of the moon overhead. Eddie has never been aboard, though he has seen it many times, and notes that it seems worse for wear. There are hasty patches in the sails, and chipped off bits of her hull from recent battles. Tozier pulls up alongside, and reaches to untie Eddie's hands and remove the gag from his mouth.

"You okay?" he asks, and Eddie gives him a look.

"I'm great. I love being snatched from my bed by pirates in the dead of night."

Tozier snorts, nudging him toward the ship. "Go on, then."

Eddie climbs the ladder obediently, mostly because he has nowhere else to go, and clambers on deck. The moment he is on his feet he is accosted, grabbed first by his right arm and then his left, and caged between the bodies of two men. He tries to fight but his held fast, so he bares his teeth and prepares to bite and kick his way out. 

"Easy, easy," Tozier says , hurrying to climb on deck and holding up his hands. "Let him go, it's okay."

After a moment's hesitation, Eddie is released. He rolls his shoulders with a grimace, stepping away and toward Tozier, as if the bastard is going to be any sort of helpful.

"This him?" asks a third man with tight ringlets of dark hair and searching eyes that look Eddie slowly up and down. 

"Yeah."

"He doesn't look like much. He's in his underwear."

Eddie flushes and glares, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He was in bed," Tozier smirks.

"Unfortunate," says another, this one a woman with fiery hair poking out from underneath a crisp hat. "How'd you manage to pull that one?"

"Not in the bed with _me_ , he was-"

"Did you get the rest of the job done, Rich?" asks the man who was holding Eddie's left arm.

"I said I'd get it done, didn't I?" Tozier scoffs. 

"But did you?"

"Yes, _Bill_. The governor has our demands and the coordinates. All that's left is to go to said coordinates and wait them out."

"Am I allowed to know what the hell is going on, yet?" Eddie snips. All eyes swivel toward him, and it takes a lot of willpower not to take a step backward.

"We should put him in the brig," says the man who was holding Eddie's right arm. His voice and face are gentle, as far as pirates go, anyway. "It'll be safer."

Tozier waves him off. "We don't need to do all of that. He's fine. Look at him."

Eddie stands straighter as eyes are on him again, appraising.

"He might send word to the governor," the woman points out, raising her eyebrows at Tozier. "Whatever your...past is, he's still a military man. He won't just sit on his hands while we ship him off to an island."

"Bev," Tozier says a bit more tensely. "I've got it under control, okay? Will all of you just let me handle it?"

There are no further arguments, though the significant looks exchanged between Tozier's crew doesn't escape Eddie's notice. He doubts it escapes Tozier's, either.

"Great. Now get us the fuck out of here, would you?"

The group of them disperse to get the ship underway, and Eddie watches as Tozier takes a compass from his pocket and squints into the distance. He waits for a few moment, and scoffs when there is still silence between them.

"So?"

Richie glances at him. "So what?"

Eddie purses his lips. "So are you going to tell me what the fuck I'm doing here, now?"

"You're a hostage."

"Richie, I swear to fucking God."

Richie grins widely. "Ah. You called me Richie."

"Did not. Now explain."

With a clack, the compass is closed again, and stowed inside Richie's pocket. 

"I'm taking you for ransom. Specifically, to bargain the freedom of myself and my crew."

"You can't be serious."

Richie doesn't smile. "Things are changing. It's getting harder to avoid officials."

"You're pirates," Eddie reminds him, as if he needs it. As if either of them aren't painfully aware. "You're a danger."

"So you always say. Anyway," Richie sighs, leaning with his forearms folded on the taffrail. "I'm hoping the governor and I can come to some kind of agreement. If I don't have to die, I'd rather not. And I need you as a bargaining chip."

"Alright. Fair enough. Then why am I not in the brig, like your man said?"

Blue eyes meet his, and they're so open and unguarded that it steals Eddie's breath a bit. 

"I trust you," Richie says quietly.

Eddie stares at him, then looks away, toward the moon and stars glittering on the surface of the water. It's still, tonight, the lapping of waves on the hull quiet and melodic. He stands beside Richie, pretending he doesn't notice their shoulders and elbows brushing. 

"Well. That's very stupid of you."

"Probably. Then again, you let me waltz you right out of town without so much as a fight."

Eddie splutters indignantly. "You-you gagged and restrained me! I would've fought if I could!"

"Would you? Interesting."

Something about the way he says it steals whatever else Eddie might have said right out of his throat. He presses his lips together again, eyes back on the water.

"Anyway," Richie continues. "I left him coordinates to an island near here. It's small, deserted. We can set up a camp there and wait them out. We have supplies for three weeks, so we have time to let them stew."

"And what if, as is likely, they don't negotiate with a pirate?" Eddie asks. "What if the three weeks go by and there's no response?"

"Well," says Richie, his eyes glinting and his grin lopsided. "Then I suppose I get to keep you forever."

The swelling in Eddie's chest at the notion is extremely unwelcome.


	3. Chapter 3

The first evening aboard Richie's ship is extremely odd. The first thing he does is get Eddie a new set of clothes, though Eddie wouldn't have been that surprised if he'd made him sit around in his underwear the entire time just to be a dick. The second thing he does is _not_ put him straight in the brig, which Eddie definitely expected. The two of them stand at the top of the stairs leading below deck, Eddie giving him the dryest look he can manage.

"You want me to sleep with your crew?" he asks incredulously. "You must be joking."

"I never joke," says Richie. "Very straight-laced. Can hardly feel the stick up my ass anymore."

"Shut up," Eddie huffs, looking back down into the black abyss that led to sweat and dirt and rum soaked sheets (if sheets existed). "Do I have to?"

"Either this or the brig, commodore."

Eddie sighs heavily, shoulders slumping. "Fine." He takes one step, blinking when Richie immediately sidles in front of him, impeding his path. He raises his eyebrows, stepping to the side and huffing when he is again, blocked. "What, Tozier?" he asks testily.

"Just a thought," Richie grins. "My bed is plenty big. And empty. S'got sheets and everything."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. "Over my dead body."

"What? I just remember at that one tavern - where was that again, Cuba? Jamaica? You said something about sheets-"

"Get out of my way," Eddie snaps, elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to nudge him aside. 

He stomps down the stairs, ignoring Richie's ridiculous laugh following behind him as he tries not to slip and fuck up his dramatic exit. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, assisted by the dim lantern light. The sleeping quarters are a bit crowded, it seems, with a jumble of beds and hammocks strewn about in whatever spare space that could be found. He hovers, suddenly realizing he's not sure which sleeping apparatus belongs to who. He jumps a bit when a hand claps his back once, and kind of hard. 

"Over here," says the woman with red hair (Bev, Eddie thinks he remembers), one brow quirked as she nudges him further away from the stairs. "If you snore, I'm throwing you in the brig myself and the captain can just get over it."

"I uh, don't. I don't think," Eddie says, stumbling a bit as she steers him toward a bed in a far corner, away from the others. "Um. Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, commodore," she drawls. "And no funny business; you try shit, you'll get a bullet in your ass."

"Noted."

Eddie sits on the rickety bed, feeling uneasy as he listens to the others murmur to each other and get ready for sleep. Once the lanterns are out, he kicks off his boots and quietly strips his heavier layers. As he stretches out on the mattress, he briefly wonders if he should have taken Richie up on the offer to sleep in his bed, after all. He tells himself it's because of the shitty mattress, not because he would feel much more secure with his face pressed into a warm, broad chest. 

* * *

Eddie wakes the next morning with a terrible crick in his neck, squinting around in confusion for a moment before remembering he was kidnapped. Or...something. He can admit it is not the first time he's "tangled" with Richie, but it's certainly the first time Richie has taken him hostage. He typically doesn't do that sort of thing, enjoys the game more than he enjoys winning (at least where Eddie is ocncerned), so he really must be desperate. Eddie sits up, rubbing his neck with a grimace and stumbling sleepily into his boots before making his way onto the deck.

It's a pleasant day, with decent winds and enough cloud cover to lessen the harshness of the sun. He still has to squint a bit as he adjusts to the light, watching the vessel bustling with Richie's ragtag crew. He's never met any of them, which doesn't surprise him. For as long and as...questionably intimately as he's known the man, it's only been through a series of brief encounters. The word trysts pokes at the forefront of Eddie's mind, but he pushes it back because well, that's just far too salatious. He doesn't have _trysts_ with Richard Tozier, notorious Caribbean pirate. No matter how many tavern rooms they may have rented together. Or bed frames they may have broken. 

Absolutely not.

"Good morning."

Eddie nearly pisses himself, jumping in surprise at a voice over his shoulder. Turning, he sees it's one of the men who had been holding onto him the previous night, the one with kind eyes and a gentle smile.

"Um. Morning?" 

"I'm Mike," the man says, holding out his hand to shake, and Eddie is so surprised by a handshake from a fucking pirate that he blinks at it for a moment before grasping it. "Captain Tozier's asked me to look after you."

"Look after me?"

"Well. Keep an eye on you."

Eddie snorts, lifting his eyes to the sunny sky. "You're my babysitter."

"Essentially. Beats the brig, doesn't it?"

"Only barely."

Mike doesn't seem offended, his smile friendly enough as he nods toward the far end of the ship. "Come on. You can help me with some repairs."

Eddie follows after him, even as he is opening his mouth to protest. "You know, I'm starting to feel very confused about what exactly I'm doing here." Mike doesn't respond, so he just huffs and follows on his heels.

It appears that the repairs Mike mentioned are to the deck itself. There are chunks of the banister missing, and some splintering on the deck. Eddie raises his eyebrows as Mike hauls out a box of various, well-worn tools.

"Run into some trouble?"

Mike nods, taking out a sanding tool and handing it to Eddie. "Yeah. Like the captain said, we've been having more and more run-ins with navy men. It's making him nervous."

"I didn't think Captain Tozier was capable of being nervous," Eddie snorts, starting on repairing one of the larger chips in the banister. He supposes it's a little odd, to be doing repairs on Richie's ship when the man fucking snatched him but from his bed, but...well. It's not like he has much else to do. 

"Normally I'd say the same, but it's never been this bad before," says Mike, working alongside him. "Before, we could keep to ourselves. Mostly. Now it's like we're being pursued."

Eddie's jaw clenches a bit, a strange twist in his gut. "The world is becoming more civilized. There's less and less room for...people like you. Ri-Tozier knows that."

"I'd say you're right," Mike nods. "And I'd say that's why he's trying to buy our way out. One way or another." He turns dark eyes on Eddie, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck a bit with how perceptive they are. "I know the two of you have a history. He doesn't talk about it much, at least not with me. But I know you have one. You know he wouldn't actually hurt you."

Eddie doesn't meet the intense gaze, even though he can feel it boring into the side of his skull. "I do."

"So the real danger here is you."

That gets his attention, and Eddie glances at him with an incredulously raised eyebrow. "Me? I'm the danger?"

Mike doesn't smile or falter. "If you know Richie won't do anything to you, what's to stop you from taking advantage of that fact?"

Edide opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. "I. Well. Nothing, I suppose."

"Right. Which is why you have a babysitter," Mike says, pleasantly enough, though Eddie can hear the veiled threat. 

Eddie lets out a breath through his nose, redirecting his gaze to his work. "I wouldn't," he says firmly. "I...just. I wouldn't."

"Hm. We'll see."

There is silence between them for a while, and Eddie finds that the menial task is calming his mind. It's true - he knows he isn't in real danger, aboard Richie's ship. His nerves come from what will happen to the stupid fool, once his actions catch up with him. Kidnapping and holding people for ransom is not a great way to buy one's freedom when one is wanted for things such as kidnapping and holding people for ransom. He grinds his teeth in frustration, remembering the many times he'd offered Richie letters of marque, a job, an escape, and was turned down with a laugh and a tease or a distracting kiss. And now, here they are, at the crossroads Richie had forced them both to come to. Fucking Christ.

"Hard at work there, gentlemen?"

The sun is momentarily blocked out by a man looming over them, his obnoxiously-unfastened shirt rippling in the wind and his fair skin tanned and a little red in the places where the sun hits. Eddie blinks at him, while Mike grins like he hung the moon and named it for him.

"As usual, darling," he says, and the man returns his smile and pats his cheek. "Commodore, this is Bill Denbrough. Our navigator."

Bill salutes lazily, though his eyes are calculating as he gives Eddie a quick once-over. "Pleasure."

Eddie nods, then turns back to his task as the two of them begin to speak. The way they stare at each other makes him feel a bit like he's intruding, so he chances glances out of the corner of his eye instead.

"Was wondering if you could take a second look at something for me," Bill says, gently tucking locks of Mike's hair over his shoulder as if no one else is around. Eddie looks away again. "Supposed to be a big storm coming, and I think we can avoid it, but...well, we both know you're better at that sort of thing than me."

"You're the navigator," Mike teases, his smile evident in his voice. 

"Aye. Don't tell the Captain I'm an incompetent fuck and I'll owe you a favor."

Mike snorts. "I'm on "captive" duty at the moment."

"Ah, come on. He'll get on for two seconds on his own, won't you?" Bill said, clapping Eddie on the back, twice and maybe a bit harder than necessary.

"Um. Sure?" 

"See? Come on, love, just a moment of your precious time."

Mike sighs, giving Bill a long-suffering smile, before glancing at Eddie. "Just keep working on that. I'll be right back."

Eddie watches them go, blinking hard. He wonders what exactly Richie had told them about him that they were willing to leave him on his own on day one of captivity. He waits a moment or two, before slowly putting down his tools and creeping away. A glance tells him that Richie is at the helm, shouting orders and turning his face up toward the sun. He forces himself not to get distracted by the sight, inching toward the captain's cabin as carefully as he can. It's unlocked, because Richie is a fool, and he ducks inside unnoticed. 

The cabin is small, compared to ones Eddie is used to, but also much more comfortable than those he is used to. He's always known Richie to be a collector of junk, but he'd never really known what he did with it all. Every inch of every surface seems to have something on it, from old books to tea kettles and lanterns and strangely shaped rocks. There are also blankets and rugs of all sorts on the floor and even hung from the walls, draped across the ceiling where some of the thinner ones let light filter through. Tucked into the corner is the bed, another thin blanket pinned to resemble a curtain. In the center is an old, wooden table on the top of which is spread a well-worn map. There are pins in it in places, though Eddie can't really determine what they're meant to indicate as he bends to squint at them. The map is lovely, though, he notes, passing his fingers carefully over the smooth parchment. He's always liked the look of a well-loved map, wrinkled and tattered from years of adventuring.

He supposes that's why he likes Richie, too. He tries not to dwell on that for very long.

The door opens so abruptly it startles him, but he relaxes when he sees it's only Richie. He's been caught red-handed, but...well, what Mike said had some truth to it. Richie fixes him with a hard look.

"Eds. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing," Eddie says innocently, meeting his gaze with a steady one of his own.

Richie purses his lips and advances on him. "Hanlon was supposed to be watching you."

"He wandered off to flirt with your navigator," says Eddie, reaching to open one of the drawers situated on the side of the old table. Richie reaches and slams it back shut, towering over him, and Eddie looks up at him defiantly. His eyes flit down to his mouth of their own accord, but he forces them back up. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be."

"Please. We both know you're all talk."

He's being backed up against the wall so swiftly it actually is a bit startling, but he just goes. It's easiest, this way, to not fight when Richie wants to push and pull him - to not fight himself, that is. He swallows when Richie presses his palms on the wall either side of his head, boxing him in.

"Still not scared, half pint?"

"I'm average height," Eddie retorts. "And - no. Never."

Richie searches his eyes for a long moment, before his mouth curls crookedly and he backs away. "I knew it."

Eddie clears his throat, trying to get his heart to slow again as he straightens up. "Knew what?"

"You don't think I"m 'a danger'," Richie drawls. "You never have."

Eddie purses his lips, finally avoiding his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I think. The law is the law."

"So you always tell me," Richie scoffs, though he's no longer holding himself so tall and wide. He's relaxed again. "But you don't believe in it. Not really. Or you wouldn't always let me go."

"It's not that simple," Eddie huffs, circling around the table to put some space between them. He goes back to brushing his fingers over some old, smudged words in Richie's scrawl in the corner of the map, notes that are barely legible after years and years. "You know it isn't."

He jumps when there is suddenly a hand around his wrist, gentle but pulling him to a stop. Richie is over him again, looming but not threatening. "You don't deny it," he says, his voice rough and quiet. "That you let me go. Every time."

"Ther'es no point to denying it," Eddie snips, though his heart has begun to pound again. "We both know what the truth is."

"You won't say it."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say that you let me go. Say that you care about me."

"And what would that solve?" It's a bit like staring straight into the sun, but Eddie can't break Richie's gaze. He's never done this before - asked for anything from him. Anything that didn't have to do with sex, anyway. "How would me saying those stupid things help us?"

Richie's faint smile falls a bit. "Is it really that stupid to love someone?"

"Yes," Eddie huffs, his ears burning. "It's incredibly inconvenient."

"Oh, I'm inconvenient, am I?"

"Who said that I love you?"

The corners of Richie's mouth pull down completely, now, and he lets go of Eddie's wrist. 

"No one," he says lowly. "Get out of my cabin. And don't try that shit again, or it really will be the brig. Got it?"

Eddie doesn't quite believe him, but he can tell he's stepped in it, so he backs away and turns toward the door.

"Fine," he says, leaving swiftly with Richie's eyes raising goosebumps on his back. 


	4. Chapter 4

Following the confrontation, Eddie supposes he can't blame Richie for saddling him with a babysitter at all hours of the day. Still no brig, though. He wonders what he'd have to do for Richie to finally put him behind bars. Knowing him, "the brig" really just means tying Eddie to his bedpost and leaving him there.

Hm. More unhelpful trains of thought. 

His new babysitter is Beverly, who sort of makes him miss Mike. Even with his veiled threats, Mike at least managed a smile and some conversation. Beverly spends most of their time together sorting through provisions and weaponry (plundered from Derry, Eddie muses dryly) glaring in his general direction. He can't be sure, but he also thinks she might be lifting more than necessary to intimidate him. It's sort of working, he admits privately. Her arms are quite large, and her knuckles are wrapped with bandages as if she recently punched something. Or someone. Much to think about.

He is roused from his thoughts by Beverly pushing a crate into his chest. Unprepared, he nearly drops it and swears. She doesn't appear to pity him. 

"Put that by the stairs," she says, nodding toward them indicatively. 

"What is it?" Eddie asks, hauling it to sit near the other crates and barrels of food and alcohol meant for the galley.

"Spare rigging," Bev tells him shortly. "You can take it above deck once we're finished."

"We're still expecting to run into that storm, I take it?" says Eddie, setting the crate down with a grunt before returning to the stockpile. "Mike and Bill were talking about it." Bev is quiet, and he rolls his eyes. "What am I going to do, put up a smoke signal and attract the storm to us? I'm going insane, the least you could do is talk to me about the weather."

Bev sighs heavily. "Yes. We're expecting a storm. But Bill will steer us out of it. With Mike's help."

"Seems like maybe Mike should be the navigator."

Bev snorts. "Bill's good at his job. Mike just helps him make smarter decisions."

"I see."

Apparently she's said too much for her own liking, because she clams up again, going back to sorting. The stockpile is quite impressive, considering the size of Richie's crew. All of them have mentioned their stroke of bad luck at least once, and Eddie wonders if their numbers had once been larger. An odd sort of anxiety settles in his stomach, and he realizes irritably that he's worried for Richie's safety. Half of him wishes he'd never gotten in quite so deep, never complicated things quite so thoroughly. The other half would never want to live in a world where he didn't know what it felt like to kiss Richie Tozier. To make love to him, to sleep inside of the blistering cocoon of his arms, to wake to the sounds of his snores muffled in a bunched up pillowcase. 

Eddie grits his teeth. 

Unhelpful.

"Alright," says Bev eventually, straightening up and dusting her hands. "Let's take these to the galley, then we can get the spare parts where they need to be."

Eddie nods, following after her and stacking a couple of crates on top of each other. He hefts them into his arms, waiting for Bev to stack one barrel sideways on each of her shoulders before following her up the stairs. 

"Can I ask you something without you punching me in the stomach?" he asks.

"So far it's hard to say."

"I only wonder - well, most sailors, pirate or no, won't have a woman aboard," Eddie points out, sticking close on her heels as they cross the deck. "Not saying I agree with the superstition. Just wondering."

Beverly doesn't reply for a bit, occupied with descending the staircase on the other end of the ship without breaking her neck and then nudging open the door to the galley with her hip. She sets the barrels down one at a time, rolling her shoulders once it's done. Eddie places his own crates on the counter.

"I was on my own before this," Beverly says eventually. "For a long time. I left my husband, and in turn my life and money and station, behind when I was...oh, must've been twenty two. Disguised myself as a man for quite a while and got work that way. Didn't find out until after Tozier hired me for a job that he had two women aboard already. So I dropped the act."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "You have _three_ women on your crew?"

Bev nods. "Me. My wife. Stan's wife."

"I don't think I've met either of them."

"Doesn't surprise me. Kay is our medic, she stays largely out of the fray. And Stan is our money man, so he does the same. Man's got weak wrists, you know how accountants are."

Eddie snorts in amusement, nodding. "I do." He's quiet for a while, prying open crates of fruit and putting them on the shelves. "You seem to have found your voice."

Bev quirks an eyebrow at him. "My what?"

"You seemed intent on not speaking to me, before," Eddie points out.

"Hm. Well. Maybe you're easy to talk to," she replies, smirking a bit. "We don't trust you," she adds matter-of-factly. "Even if the Captain does. We don't know you, other than that you're a navy man."

"Mike said the same," says Eddie. "I understand. I would be apprehensive, too."

Beverly hums, stretching up on her toes as she slides bottles of rum into the rack overhead. Someone appears to have put a lot of love and care into making the place almost...homey. 

"What are your intentions with Richie?"

Eddie blinks at her, laughing a bit. "Why? Are you the holder of his dowry?"

She gives him a dry look back. "I know that you've been letting him get away all these years. We all know it. And yet you still wear that uniform. Military men still come after us. The two of you are still forced to clash."

Eddie swallows, looking away. "Yes. Because we're both fools."

"Agreed, but how so?"

"Neither of us will accept the other's outstretched hand."

Bev nods slowly, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter. "I see. So, what, you're going to keep doing this until one of you dies? At this rate, that seems like it might be soon."

Eddie frowns deeply. "Stupid fool should never have done this. I know I'm not in danger, but the government doesn't. The only thing they know is that he kidnapped a fucking naval officer and held him for ransom."

"There wasn't another option," says Bev, shrugging one shoulder. "We're backed into a corner. It was either try something drastic and probably be killed or do nothing and definitely be killed."

Eddie swallows thickly. "...I can't watch him hang."

"Mm. Well. That's the system that you work to uphold, so. Buck up."

Eddie clenches his teeth, but cannot argue.

* * *

Eddie wakes as he crashes to the floor of the sleeping quarters, slamming his shoulder and knocking his head while he's at it. He blinks, taking a few moments before he realizes the ship is lurching violently, rain spitting in through the portholes and thunder crashing in a terrible roar. He swears and scrambles to his feet, stumbling into his boots as he fights against the erratic tilting of the deck. He dashes up the staircase alongside the other crew, squinting as he is instantly hit with a wall of rain so fierce it stings his skin. They are in the middle of one of the angrier storms Eddie has seen in some time, lightning flashing and turning the night to day before winking out again. His first thought is to search for Richie, because of course it is, and he finds him at the helm, bellowing orders over the sound of wind, waves and crashing thunder, his coat and hair billowing in the torrent. 

He spares only a moment, before sprinting to the back of the ship where a handful of the crew are taking down sails, their hands scrabbling on wet rope. Bill spots him over his shoulder and tosses him the end of the bit of rigging he's attempting to manage on his own. Eddie squints through rain as he catches it. It's hard going, with the wind yanking the at the sails and sending them all skidding on their feet and the rigging so slick he can hardly get a grip, but they manage to get them down. Richie yells something in the distance, but it is only a murmur beneath the screaming winds. Mike is nearer and repeats the orders at a shout. 

"SECURE THOSE AND FURL THE LOWER COURSES!"

" _AYE_!"

As they continue to fight the onslaught, Eddie's palms being cut to shreds by rigging even with his callouses, a worrying amount of water is crashing onto the deck. The waves are getting taller, so tall it makes Eddie very nervous, and he snarls as he is nearly knocked off of his feet a dozen times. He blinks as a shadow casts over them all, only having a moment to stare upward at the monstrous swell and declare "SHIT!" before it is crashing down, knocking the rope from his hands and sending him to his knees. He inhales some and coughs harshly, his nose and eyes stinging. Still on solid deck, though, and he thanks his lucky stars for that much.

" ** _CAPTAIN OVERBOARD!_** "

Eddie's heart stops and he looks up, finding Beverly clinging to the edge of the railing, waving her free arm and pointing to the bow. Eddie gets to his feet and runs - he is fast, has always been fast, and this does not change in the face of a storm. He collides with the railing at the far end of the ship and leans over, praying, swearing harshly when he sees Richie clinging to the edge of the ship like the cockroach that he is. 

"Fuck - HOLD ON!" he yells over the wind, before dashing to the box of spare rigging he and Bev had placed at the foot of the mast only that afternoon. He thanks whoever is watching that they secured it, the wood splintered but not lost to the sea. He reaches inside and grabs a rigging line, taking the entire bundle with him as he returns to Richie. He tosses the end of the line over the side, lining it up so it swings near enough to Richie to catch. "GRAB IT!"

Richie does as he's told, squinting through and spitting rain and sea water as he releases his grip on the hull with one hand, and then a second. He wraps his arms and legs tightly around the rope, and Eddie grits his teeth as he painstakingly hauls him up. When he can, Richie digs his boots into footholds in the hull, helping along their progress, until he is near enough that Eddie grabs onto the back of his jacket with one hand and hauls him onto the deck. He opens his mouth to ask if he's alright, but there are already lips on his, one tight arm tight around his waist and the other on the back of his head. He is too caught off guard to return it before Richie is pulling away, his eyes wild.

"Thank you, darling!" he calls. "Now, get back to work!"

Eddie blinks after him as he dashes back to the helm, like he didn't just get swept overboard only a minute ago. He's insane. Absolutely insane. Eddie is so in love with him he feels as if it's a living thing behind his ribs. 

* * *

The storm dies down.

The sky is a gentle, hazy gray-blue when it does, the sun not quite rising but perhaps beginning to think about it. All things considered, they seem to have weathered it well - some broken things here and there, but nothing that can't be repaired. The ship will still sail, they aren't taking on water, etcetera. All good things. The bad thing is that as soon as the sea stops rocking and the thunder stops roaring, Richie sinks to the fucking deck and doesn't get back up. Eddie falls to his knees beside him without thinking, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Shit, Richie," he breathes, laying a hand on his shoulder. He turns him over, frowning when he sees his shirt is faintly tinged pink, torn open and revealing a wound he'd let bleed in favor of manning the wheel. The rain has washed away a lot of the blood, but that doesn't ease Eddie's panic. Richie is still breathing, but he is unconscious and his breath hitches in his chest.

"He's hurt!" he calls out, looking up at the others. "He's wounded!"

The sound of boots hitting the deck, sprinting in long strides, and a women with warm skin and shorn hair pushes her way through the circle of crewmen. She kneels beside Richie, her dark brows pulled low over her eyes as she feels the side of his neck, and then tears his shirt to get a better look. She murmurs to herself, her eyes flitting from side to side rapidly, before she looks up at Beverly.

"Pet, help me carry him," she says, and Beverly nods, stooping to support Richie's legs while (presumably) her wife hooks her arms underneath his. 

Eddie gets to his feet, though he isn't sure what he's going to do. He watches them go tensely, grinding his teeth.

"Kay will look after him," Mike tellls them all. "We'll anchor here, so everyone can rest. Yeah?"

The rest of them nod, murmuring agreement, and shuffle below deck. Eddie doesn't think he could sleep or be any sort of horizontal even if he really wanted to. He feels almost sick with worry, clenching and unclenching his hands and resisting the urge to burst into Richie's cabin and see how it's coming. Instead, gets to work doing post-storm cleanup on his own. Keeping his hands busy will stop him from going mad. Hopefully. As the sun rises, the warmth and the sea air slowly dry him, until he is left with slightly crunchy clothes and stringy hair.

It's an hour or so before Kay and Beverly emerge again, the former with a bit of blood on her hands and shirt. Eddie does his best not to accost them, approaching at a carefully measured pace.

"How is he?"

Kay gives him a knowing look, smiling to contrast Beverly's quirked eyebrow. "He'll be fine," she assures him. "A scrape, rather than a puncture. The fool just let it bleed for ages while exterting himself. He'll need to remain in bed for at least a few days."

Eddie nods slowly, trying and surely failing to look casual. "But he's alright." When she nods, he glances over her shoulder. "Can I..."

"Oh, just go," Beverly sighs, gesturing exasperatedly toward Richie's cabin door. "Just mind his stitching."

"Um. A-alright," Eddie says, his ears burning as the two women walk away, Kay smiling wider when she thinks Eddie can't see. He takes a breath, then marches toward the door, setting aside his pride in favor of making sure that Richie really is okay. He pushes the door open slowly, trying to be quiet in case he's asleep, and carefully steps inside. 

Richie isn't asleep, instead sitting in bed with his makeshift curtain pinned back and his pillows propped up behind him. He blinks when he sees Eddie, his eyebrows raising, before a smile curls his lips.

"Hey, Eds."

Eddie inclines his head, his mind both racing and blank as he approaches the side of the bed. Richie's torso is bare, and Eddie traces the lines of bandages wrapped around his torso, blood already seeping through, and secured over one of his broad shoulders. His eyes linger there for a bit, unable to help admiring, always admiring. He pauses, before slowly sitting on the bed opposite him. 

"How are you?"

Richie shrugs one shoulder. "Lived. So. Pretty good."

Eddie huffs, clenching his jaw and shaking his head tersely. "Only barely. It's a miracle that you held on, you stupid bastard."

"But I did. And you pulled me up."

"Of course I did."

A warm, calloused hand brushes his own, long fingers curling around his palm.

"Of course you did," Richie says quietly, and Eddie holds his hand in return. He brushes his thumb over the hair on Richie's knuckles as he avoids his eyes, not wanting to leave but not quite knowing what to do. Eventually, Richie says "come here," and Eddie is thankful to have the decision made for him.

He kicks off his boots first, before crawling onto the squeaking mattress. He's careful as he settles down, automatically fitting himself into the crook of Richie's arm like he belongs there (and really, he does) but not wanting to disturb his wound. Once they've found a comfortable angle, Eddie rests his head on Richie's shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his skin on his cheek.

"Scared me," he admits quietly, after a while. "Thought I lost you."

"Mm." Richie's fingers trace up and down the length of Eddie's bicep. Soothing them both, he figures. "I've had many a close call when you weren't there, you know. Lots of times I nearly died when you were at home."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"It's not supposed to. Supposed to make you think about things. About what we're doing."

Eddie frowns, though he's too comfortable to bother craning his neck to direct it at him. "Well, I could say the same to you. I've been shot and hurt and things before without you there."

"I know," Richie says, and his voice is so tired. So sad. "And don't you wish it weren't so?"

"Of course I do," Eddie says firmly, draping an arm carefully over Richie's stomach and even going so far as to nestle one of his feet between his ankles. "Always. Every moment I wish you were beside me, but it's...I can't-"

"You won't," Richie corrects. "The only solution you can see is me becoming a privateer, and I don't want it. There's a difference between our choices."

"There isn't."

"There is. Because I love my life, and you hate yours."

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, but the words die in his throat. Richie's knowing hum rumbles deep in his chest.

"Mm. Exactly."

Eddie curls his fingers into Richie's waist band for lack of anything else to exert his nerves on. "...I care about you so much," he admits softly. "I...I love you, Rich, I just...I'm afraid."

It's quiet for some time, only to be interrupted by quiet sniffing. Eddie looks up, and panics when he sees Richie rubbing his eyes as tears slide down his cheeks. He sits up in alarm, straddling his waist to get closer to him, wanting, _needing_ to hold him.

"Oh, Richie-" he says, reaching to wipe the tears away for him with his sleeves. "Richie."

Richie looks up at him, eyes red rimmed and a sorrowful kind of smile on his face. "Fuck, Eds," he says. "I don't know how many times I can let you break my heart."

Eddie swallows thickly, wiping away another stray tear. "At least as many as you've broken mine," he whispers, and Richie laughs once without humor, a quiet and aborted thing that stops somewhere in his chest.

"I guess we're even on that."

Eddie nods, and closes his eyes as Richie stretches up to kiss him. His mouth is warm, his cheeks and chin a little rough, his hair smelling of rain. Eddie reaches to cradle Richie's jaw in both of his hands, his fingertips tracing the sharp line before his arms wrap around his neck. After a minute Eddie leans a bit too far forward, and Richie pulls away with a sharp gasp.

"Ow."

"I'm sorry," Eddie breaths, leaning back again. 

"S'okay," Richie says, grimacing for another moment before relaxing. He looks up at Eddie with an expression that's hard to read, reaching to run his fingers through his hair and push it away from his forehead. "I love you too, y'know."

Eddie smiles weakly, turning his head to kiss his palm. "I know. I'm sorry."

It's an odd thing to say, probably. Even still, Richie begins to cry again and Eddie pulls him into his arms, holding him close to his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

The island is decidedly remote, though it appears that they've been there before. Or, someone has, Eddie muses, helping the rest of the crew to unhaul boxes of supplies from the ship. There is a derilict settlement, long-abandoned stone buildings that are by now only crumbling walls and pillars. The remnants of them are smattered about and from far away, strike Eddie as reminiscent of ribs jutting up from the ground, like something large had died there and been buried by time and weather. He's been having an awful lot of odd thoughts, lately. His eyes don't leave the back of Richie's head as they build upon the pre-existing camp that is nestled into the old settlement.

"Have you been here before?" he asks as they make the trip from the ship to the camp for what must be the hundredth time. It's a 50/50 chance that he'll actually receive an answer - since their love confession, Richie has seemed intent on making those their last words to each other as he's been avoiding him like the plague. "Richie."

"Mm?"

"I asked if you'd been here before."

"Why?"

Eddie lifts his eyes to the sky, cloudy and a forboding shade of gray. It's probably good their journey is at an end, for now.

"Because, there's already a firepit. There's half a camp already set up, here."

Richie hums again, still not looking at him. "Yes. We have. It's remote, we used to be able to hide out here without being bothered."

"And now?"

"And now, I'm giving the location away. So. That's the end of that."

Eddie frowns deeply, walking faster to catch up with him. "Why?"

"Because I've been cornered. And the least I can grant myself is the advantage of familiar territory."

"But then, where will you go? After?"

Richie turns to face him, and Eddie now notices that his sharp jaw is even more defined by tension.

"After isn't a certainty," he says sharply. "The existence of an 'after' depends on if your boss likes you enough to trade you for my freedom. And if he isn't, then I hang and it doesn't fucking matter. So, either I don't need this place anymore because the navy is leaving me alone, or I don't need it because I'm dead."

Eddie swallows thickly, unable to say anything for a moment as he stares up at him. The wind is growing colder, more harsh, rustling their hair and stinging their eyes. The storm is drawing near.

"I won't let them hang you."

"You don't have a say in the matter," Richie says. "Unless you break the law. But we both know how much you love the law. More than anything or anyone else."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Clearly."

"Why are you angry with me, suddenly?"

Richie laughs harshly, with malice, and turns away to continue trudging up the beach. "Figure it out, Commodore."

Eddie watches him go, stuck in place and sick to his stomach.

* * *

The ominous clouds luckily turn out to have been mostly rain, thunder sounding in the distance rather than nearby. The winds are harsh, but the tarps that the crew spent the afternoon securing around the remains of the stone buildings hold well. It's still cold, Eddie complains privately, wrapped in a large fur and pouting in one of the smaller shelters. Near-freezing, even, with the rain making it impossible to make a fire. He stares across camp to the largest of the dwellings, soft light emenating from inside from Richie's oil lamp, no doubt. Richie hadn't spoken to him again after the beach, hardly glancing at him as they set up camp, ate a simple stew for dinner, listened to the rest of the crew bicker and joke. Despite them all clearly having their eye on him, they also have seemed to warm up to Eddie. He isn't quite sure how to feel about that, though he also supposes he can't get much more conflicted than he already is.

Finally sick of himself and his own racing thoughts, Eddie gets to his feet, dropping the fur onto his sleeping mat and stalking across camp. He barges into Richie's dwelling, not giving a shit when he startles. He feels a little badly when he realizes Richie was trying to change his own bandages, and Eddie made him drop them onto the ground. The unwrapped wound looks painful, but it isn't inflamed and seems to have healed over a bit. Eddie purses his lips, crossing the room to sit beside him.

"Give me those."

"I can do it."

"I said give them to me."

Richie huffs through his nose, handing them over. Eddie makes a satisfied noise in his throat, reaching to take Richie's knife from his belt - an intimate gesture, but something has come over him and he finds he doesn't care. He cuts the dirty bits of bandage away, discarding them before unrolling a line of fresh ones. They are both quiet as Eddie works, leaning in close to wrap them around Richie's torso and over his shoulder to secure them.

"Are we to go on like this, then?" he asks eventually, murmuring as he feels loud in the quiet and proximity. He's sure if he leaned any closer he could feel Richie breathing. "Are you just not going to speak to me until the Governor responds?"

"That was the idea."

Eddie's hands still and he ducks into Richie's vision. "I told you I love you."

"Yes. Don't remind me."

"I don't understand you."

"Do you not?" Richie asks more lowly, and his eyes become less tight, seem to droop with misery. "Do you really not?"

Eddie swallows, shaking his head. "No. I thought-"

"You thought I'd be happy? That the man I love loves me back, but not enough to save me from the noose?"

The words hit Eddie so solidly in his chest that he loses his breath. "Richie. No."

"Just admit it," Richie says, sharp but only to cover up the shaking in his voice. "Admit it, Eddie. You love me but you love your job, more. Your title, your...I don't know. I can't even fathom what you love, anymore. I don't know what that means for you."

"I told you already my feelings," Eddie says, though he can't really muster up the indignation he'd like. "This isn't an easy thing you're asking of me."

"It fucking should be!" Richie snarls, his eyes shining. "It shouldn't be so hard for you to choose me!"

"Richie-"

"Are you going to watch my neck snap and feel like you did the smart thing? The sensible thing?"

Eddie bristles, leaning away from him. "That's enough-"

"You'll be there," Richie continues, eyes manic. "You'll get a fucking beautiful view of it, I'm sure, for being my victim. They'll have you so close you'll probably see when the light leaves my eyes."

Eddie squeezes his own eyes shut as they burn. "Stop it."

"No!" Richie bellows. "No! I won't! Because it's the truth and you can't just brush it away! You can't brush me away, not this time!"

"I never wanted to brush you away!" Eddie sobs, still not opening his eyes for fear he'll imagine Richie with a rope around his neck too vividly if he does. "I didn't!"

"You did! You were happy to fuck me in a random port for a few days, let me go, then repeat," Richie snaps. "I've told you countless times how much I want you, how much I want to be with you, but you don't want it as much! You don't even want me enough to save my fucking life!"

"Richie," Eddie whimpers, turning away from him and rubbing his soaking cheeks with the heels of his palms. "Please."

Richie seems to lose steam all at once, going quiet as his shoulders slump. He leans back against the stone wall, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. Eddie takes the moment to get a hold of himself, taking deep breaths until the sobs stop and he can finally dry his eyes and cheeks. He sniffles, hugging himself and staring at a spot on the dirt floor.

"I won't apologize," Richie murmurs eventually. "...I want to. Hate to see you cry."

"Hate doing it," Eddie scoffs humorlessly. "...I don't want you to die, Richie. I don't."

"I know."

"I'm just a coward."

"That's a bullshit excuse."

Eddie nods, unable to argue that.

"Have you been happy, with the way things have been? For us?"

Eddie frowns, shaking his head. "No. It's...I enjoyed the time we spent together. But I always wanted more. And I always worry."

"I wanted more, too," says Richie softly. "I want more, now. I need more from you. Need you to be my man. To protect me. Fight for me. I need more."

Eddie swallows, wiping away another stray tear. "Maybe I don't deserve you."

"If that's the excuse you want to give yourself," says Richie, "for why you won't be the man I need, then fine."

"I want to be," Eddie says, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to be yours."

Richie's expression is impassive, though his eyes are swollen and red-rimmed. "Do you want it enough?"

Eddie smiles shakily, trying not to cry again.

"I want to."

Richie hums, expression not shifting, and looks away.

"Wanting to want it isn't enough. Be a man, or don't. But stop torturing me."

It's quiet for a while, Eddie feeling meek in a way he isn't used to. It makes him feel incredibly small.

"Should I go?" he asks eventually, voice still quiet.

"I don't know," says Richie. "Should you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you deserve to stay here with me? Or do you not?"

The lump in Eddie throat is painful as he tries to speak around it. "...no."

"Then get out."

Eddie gets to his feet and leaves.

* * *

Perhaps, Eddie thinks, avoiding each other is for the best.

He does just that for the next several days, spending his time alone, for the most part. Richie apparently hasn't let the crew know about their argument because their attitude toward him hasn't changed, but their growing kindness toward him makes Eddie uneasy. They're a family, and Eddie will have a hand, likely, in tearing them apart. Because there is no way this deal with the Governor will work. Eddie knows it, and, if Richie's words from the other night are any indication, he knows it, too.

So, Eddie spends much of his time walking along the beach on his own, inhaling salty air and ruminating himself sick. He stands, now, barefoot in the shallows with his pant legs rolled up and staring out at the horizon as if it holds the key to him finding his balls. Incredibly melodramatic of him, and he'll admit he's glad he's alone. He realizes that being kidnapped is actually the first time he's taken a break in at least a decade. With that realization comes another, that perhaps that is why he has never allowed himself to think very hard about Richie Tozier during that decade. He's always kept busy, drowned out his own thoughts and emotions until only efficiency is left.

He hates himself, he finds, or the mess he's made of himself. He loves who he is with Richie. A different man entirely, though one he recognizes more readily. The simple enormity of that statement alone forces a bewildered laugh from his chest. He turns, and walks back up the beach, carrying his boots in one hand.

It's mid-day, which means camp is empty, everyone out hunting or gathering wood or otherwise keeping busy. The only person left in camp is Richie, who Eddie discovers in his dwelling when his feet carry him there. Richie is scribbling in his journal, and only notices him when he's been standing there nearly a minute. He pauses, eyes locked with Eddie's where he sits on the rickety bed - Mike and Bill had carried it out of his cabin for him, citing his poor back. They really are getting old, Eddie thinks, as he crosses the room. He stands in front of Richie, silent, before slowly sinking to his knees.

Richie blinks twice, his expression otherwise not changing as he puts aside his journal. Eddie holds his gaze, hands in his lap and face tilted upward.

"I decided," Eddie murmurs.

"Decided what?"

"I do. Want you enough. I'm yours. If you want me."

Richie's throat bobs, a large hand carding carefully through Eddie's hair. Eddie closes his eyes contently.

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can be found @comefeedthrainn on twitter :D


	6. Chapter 6

"You have so many scars."

The shelter is quiet, well-insulated by makeshift walls and tarp so that Eddie can comfortably lay naked beside Richie in his bed. The light is soft and yellow, flickering with the dancing of the lantern flame off to the side. Richie's features are cast in heavy shadow, highlighted where his jaw and cheek bones and broad shoulders push into the light, his broad chest just-visible with the blanket pooled down by his waist. Eddie has been trailing his fingers up and down his sternum, enjoying the brush of his body hair and the places where he is firm compared to where he is soft. His fingertips brush over bumps once in a while, scars that are thin and white or uneven and pink. His progress is occassionally interrupted by thick bandages, though less than before and no blood visible on the cloth. The wound is healing well.

"I do," Richie replies, his voice gravelly in it's quietness. "You mention them every time you see me naked, you know."

Eddie smirks to himself. "Well."

"You like them."

"Maybe."

"Mm. I like yours, too."

"I don't have quite as many," Eddie points out, shifting a bit closer and readjusting his head on Richie's bare shoulder. His cheek is sticking to his skin a bit, the air around them damp from sex and general humidity, but he finds he kind of likes it. "And mine aren't quite as impressive."

Richie snorts, large hand splaying over the center of Eddie's torso. If the room were brighter, a starburst scar would be visible between his fingers, a poorly healed memory of the closest scrape Eddie has ever had with death. 

"I'd say this one is pretty impressive," Richie murmurs, kissing Eddie's temple as he brushes his fingers over the scar. Eddie twitches, the skin there somehow both sensitive and numb and making him feel like insects are crawling around underneath. Richie lifts his hand away. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Eddie says, taking the hand and putting it back. "Leave that. It's warm." He smiles as Richie laughs quietly in his ear.

They're silent for a while, Eddie resuming exploring the parts of Richie he forgot and the new places where he's been harmed without Eddie by his side. He figures the least he can do is memorize it all. Get up to speed. 

"What's that one on your back?" he asks, remembering the blemish he'd felt while dragging his nails down Richie's shoulder blades. "Can I see?"

"If you want."

Eddie pushes himself up to sit as Richie does, frowning when he presents his back and reveals a rather ugly scar, uglier than he'd thought. Well, not ugly. There's something lovely about a fierce scar, Eddie muses, reaching to carefully trace the length of it that is visible around the bandages, from Richie's left shoulder blade and diagonally down to his right hip. The mark is thick and shiny, clumsily healed over. It looks as if the injury that caused it split him right open.

"What happened?" he asks softly, watching in fascination as Richie's back arches slightly under his touch. Richie doesn't ask him to stop, so he doesn't. 

"What you'd expect," Richie says casually. "Sword to the back."

"Whose sword?" Eddie snorts, quirking an eyebrow even though Richie is facing away from him. "Who'd you piss off?"

"Who ddin't I?" Richie snorts. "That one was another pirate, shockingly. Another captain. Was stupid."

Eddie hums, smoothing his palm over Richie's shoulder for no reason other than to admire the shape of it's curve. "What did you do to them?"

"Took his haul," Richie grins, sounding extremely proud of himself. "And his hat. Was a nice hat."

Eddie smirks, shaking his head. "You are a ridiculous man."

"I've heard that somewhere before."

"Probably from me."

"Probably."

Eddie presses his chest to Richie's back, tucking his chin over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. He closes his eyes, smiling when Richie twists his head to kiss his cheek. Richie's bandages are stark and crisp against his skin. 

"Richie."

"Mm."

"I love you."

Richie hums longer, a rumble in his chest that warms Eddie down to his bones.

"I love you, too, Eds."

Eddie opens his eyes again, frowning into space. "Will the governor come tomorrow?"

"Yeah. If he's agreed to the terms, anyway."

Eddie swallows thickly. "Richie. He...he won't-"

"Hush," Richie says softly, turning to face him. He cups Eddie's face with a large, warm palm, brushing his thumb underneath Eddie's eye. "We can think about it tomorrow."

"But tomorrow he'll be here. And he won't agree to this, Richie," Eddie says weakly. "He won't. And even if he did, I...I'd never see you again. You'd have to give me back, and then you'd be exiled somewhere."

The corners of Richie's mouth pull down grimly, his brow crinkling in the center. "We'll deal with whatever happens when it happens. Let's not talk about it right now."

"But-"

"Please," Richie begs more softly. "Just be here with me. We've got all night before this has to end."

Eddie blinks away the burning in his eyes. "I don't want it to end."

"I know. Neither do I."

* * *

The Governor's ship arrives near midday, appearing over the horizon and spurring them all into action as they prepare for whatever might happen. Richie orders the crew to hide further in on the island, just in case things go sideways, and to return at sundown and make way for open sea whether Richie is there or not. None of them look terribly happy about it, but they don't argue, dispersing into the trees. No good to anyone if they all get sent to the noose. 

Eddie now stands in the center of Richie's shelter, still as he waits for the man in question to bind his wrists with rope. They haven't spoken much this morning, both of them too anxious for small talk or playing. Richie's hands are gentle as he ties the knot tight enough to be convincing, but loose enough so as not to cut off Eddie's circulation. Eddie's heart is racing, flying in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribs as his mind works to match it. He watches Richie's face, overcome with desperation and love and a strange anger he can't quite identify. 

"I won't let him take you," he says lowly, holding Richie's eyes when they lift to meet his. "I won't let him."

"Mm," Richie replies, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest flicker of a smile. "Don't do anything rash, my love."

"You asked me to defend you. I will," Eddie says firmly. "I will."

"I believe you. But as I said. Nothing rash. Use that tactician's mind. Don't get us both killed."

Eddie searches his eyes, then nods once. 

"Alright."

They exit together, Richie placing a hand on the nape of Eddie's neck and steering him toward the beach. The touch is a comfort, grounding and steadying Eddie's nerves as they march. The Governor's crew are laying anchor as they approach, while the Governor himself and two soldiers float toward the shore on a dinghy. They are well-armed, Eddie can see, and he clenches his teeth. 

"Richie."

"Hush, Eds."

"No, listen," Eddie hisses urgently. "If they agree to exchange me, I'll find you. Okay? I'll find you again. Don't go far."

Richie doesn't respond at first, except to squeeze Eddie's nape. Warmth spreads through him despite the chilly wind rustling their hair and clothes, and Eddie closes his eyes in response.

"Yes, my love."

They stop about twenty paces from the shore's edge, and Eddie shivers as the wind only gets colder close to the water. It's an overcast day, the sky gray and promising rain and rough seas. The dinghy scrapes along the sand and comes to a halt, the Governor and his men climbing out and making sure to stick their noses in the air before approaching. Richie snorts quietly, but Eddie can't do the same. He's too busy holding his breath.

"Tozier," says the Governor, holding out a hand. Richie just looks at it, so he drops it after a long moment. "I'm pleased to see my Commodore in one piece."

"Just like I promised," Richie says evenly, his hand still wrapped around the base of Eddie's neck. "Take him, then. I'll finally have some quiet."

Eddie goes when Richie nudges him forward, though he has to force his legs to move. Everything in him wants to remain at Richie's right shoulder. His eyes stick to him as one of the Governor's men cuts the rope from his wrists. He doesn't have to rub them; they weren't very tight.

"Now," Richie says, his eyes sharp as they search the Governor's face. His fists flex and relax repeatedly as he speaks. "Your end of the bargain. I'll be going."

The Governor stares at him for a moment, then cocks his head, the corner of his mouth quirking.

"The notion that a criminal wanted for murder, assault, theft, and now the kidnapping of a naval officer, could negotiate in any capacity with the government is adorable, I will admit. But naive."

Eddie blinks as the two soldiers advance on Richie, hands on their weapons. Richie's back and shoulders go rigid, but he doesn't reach for his own.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks tensely, forcing himself not to step forward. "You said-I...was under the impression I was part of an exchange."

The Governor ignores him, watching as Richie does not fight as the soldiers confiscate his sword and pistol and get to work binding his wrists. Eddie grinds his teeth, momentarily seeing red. _Get your hands off of him, don't touch him, don't touch him, get off of him._ He takes a steady breath through his nose.

"Where are your crew, Tozier?"

Richie's face is impassive, defiant. "Haven't seen them."

The Governor's jaw twitches. "Kaspbrak."

Eddie tenses, and Richie's eyes snap to his. Imploring, trusting, maybe apologizing? It's hard to tell.

"It was only ever us," Eddie says quietly. "No crew."

He can feel the Governor trying to burn a hole into his temple, but his eyes are only for Richie. As always. Eventually the Governor grunts, resigned, and straightens his back. 

"Fine. Men, take the pirate to his cell. Kaspbrak, I imagine you're starving and in need of a wash."

Eddie isn't, because Richie takes care of him, always. He doesn't argue, though, as he follows the group to the dinghy. He resists the urge to walk close to Richie, to touch and comfort and protect. His hands are free, he muses anxiously. He could grab the Governor's sword, or a pistol, catch them off guard. Richie's head is held high, as always, and he doesn't look afraid. But every piece of Eddie's body and soul is screaming to tear the bonds away from his hands and run with him.

_Nothing rash, my love. Don't get us both killed._

Eddie clenches his fists, and pins them to his sides. 


End file.
